On the Scales of Fate
by Dreylen
Summary: Book three of the True Gaia series. After the events at the Iifa Tree, life seems to be settling back to normal, or rather, a new normal. Within days, though, all the trouble that had been brewing boils over, and our heroes must journey once again.


**Authoress' Notes: **Hey, sorry it took so long to get this first chapter up! I needed a few pushes and kicks to the keister to get moving on this. Plus a little praise.

Krimson Rogue, dude, your praise was JUST what I needed to get moving again. You have no idea how giddy I was when I read that little blurb you put at the end of your story. Of course, it might take a while before you read this, but the feels are still there. You sir, are awesome.

As usual, the intro chapter is much shorter than the rest of my chapters. This is not a normal length for my chapters. This is about one fifth of normal length. Now, on with the show!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Final Fantasy franchise.

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**Chapter 1: Eternal Night**

Drake sighed and flopped onto his bed with a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his freshly-cut hair. A lot had happened since leaving Caledonia, and he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. He was currently in the mansion that belonged to Lord Kings – which was now him – wondering exactly how he had allowed Dagger to talk him into accepting a noble title.

Treno wasn't his favorite city, either. It was always dark, and filled with people with too much money and not enough sense in their heads, as well as people that didn't have nearly enough money to survive. In his opinion, it was filled with the worst of society.

"My lord Kings...?" The archer sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position, blinking at the chambermaid he had yet to learn the name of. She was a quiet, petite thing that had served the previous Lord Kings' adoptive daughter. She bobbed a curtsy, and Drake waved his hand.

"Don't do that, please. It makes me uncomfortable." The young woman hesitated, and blinked at the yawn that her new master let loose. "Has the steward finally arrived to talk at me?" The maid hid a smirk at the young man's obvious dislike for the business that he had been suddenly pushed into.

"Yes, he has. There have been several requests for your presence at dinner parties as well. As per your orders, I have declined all such requests on the basis that you have no suitable clothing for such occasions." Drake smiled at the girl and stood with another yawn.

"Thank you. Would you mind showing me where the steward is waiting? I haven't been here long enough to learn my way around yet." The girl giggled slightly, and stepped out the door. It was Drake's first day in Treno, and only his third day back from Caledonia.

It had taken them a week to return to Alexandria, and as soon as they had arrived with the late queen's ashes, Dagger had been swept up into preparations for her coronation. It took all of a day's inquiry to confirm that Kuja had indeed been Lord Kings, thanks to Anastasia's presence. There had been a great deal of fuss over who would receive the estate, with all of the nobles pushing for the queen-to-be to grant it to them. Finally, the young woman had called for Drake, who had been allowed to rest in the palace on account of his being a Chosen.

The archer hadn't accepted the title without an argument, but Dagger had certainly turned on both her charm and her diplomatic skills. He'd brought up several things, from already being an heir to land on Caledonia, to needing to travel for his duties as a Chosen. Each and every excuse that he came up with had been shot down by not only Dagger, but Doctor Tot.

Something else that had startled the Chosen was that Dagger had been given a Stellazio while in Madain Sari. Doctor Tot had a metal quill that he spun while he thought that was also a Stellazio. The archer couldn't claim his duties as a Chosen as an excuse. Nor could he claim the fact that he was an heir already, as he himself had an heir, and his father was yet in good health.

The steward was a stuffy man, Drake could see, as soon as he walked into the parlor, dressed in fabric that didn't bend as it should, and covered in powder to make himself look paler than he actually was. His hooked nose twitched as he stared at the man that he now had to serve, still wearing the clothes he had arrived wearing, travel-worn as they were.

Drake met the man's eyes levelly, already trying to gauge him. The man likely wouldn't take him seriously unless the archer proved himself, and who knew how long that would take. The archer knew perfectly well that he was best suited to the battlefield, not the halls of some pampered man that had never so much as touched a real weapon.

The talk was just as boring as he had assumed, until he interrupted the man and ordered him to speak reasonably. Drake swore that he saw a glint of condescension, until the archer corrected him, stating that he simply saw no reason in dancing around the subject at hand. That certainly deflated the steward's arrogance.

After a while, a maid poked her head into the room and announced that dinner was ready. The first thing that Drake had done was walked into the kitchen and met the cook. He'd had to assure the woman and her team of kitchen helpers that he would gladly eat the same as the servants. The maids had been harder to convince of his like for modesty than the cook, that was for sure. Though, the fact that the archer offered to help cook every once in a while might have opened the woman's eyes.

Dinner was a hearty stew. Drake couldn't help but smile a little. Once again, people were assuming that he didn't eat much, based on his body structure. He didn't mind, though, as it meant he got more food. The stew was quite tasty, though he did wish that it had been served in trenchers of bread loaves allowed to stale slightly. It just didn't taste quite as good served on expensive china in a room that hadn't been aired out properly in a long time.

Kuja must have been fond of potpourri or something along the like, or perhaps Anastasia had. Drake couldn't stand the scent, and there was no way that he could have plants brought in to liven the place up, what with the fact that the sun never shone. It was little wonder that the people he passed on the streets looked so miserable.

The archer couldn't get over the fact that he was suddenly supposed to be constantly busy now that he was a noble. Not even moments after he'd finished off his bowl of stew, a maid arrived to inform him that there was a tailor there to measure him for 'proper' clothing, as per the housekeeper's instructions.

The Chosen was of half a mind to go back to Lindblum and get his clothing from there, but he knew that the nobles of Treno wouldn't hear of it, no matter how much the people of that city needed the income. At the very least, the tailor, a young woman that looked quite businesslike, was quick about it, and respected his requests for clothing that didn't restrict his movement. She even suggested a place in town to get some new armor, after seeing the scorched remains of the set that Andreas had given him.

The clock on the wall stated it was eight in the afternoon by the time the tailor left, but Drake felt like night had long since fallen. He was an early riser now, not a night owl. Dark, to him, meant time to sleep. It didn't help that he knew that he had to leave in a few days, to continue to guide Zidane and the others.

"My lord...Lady Queens has arrived and is wishful to speak with you." The maid was one that Drake had convinced to be less formal around him, but she was acting quite stiff, even in her curtsy. Though the reason why was seen shortly.

"You stupid trull, I told you to bring me to him, not tell him I was here!" Drake scowled as he heard a woman that he had to assume was Lady Queens scold the maid. He pushed himself up out of the chair he'd been slouched in as the woman pushed her way in with a huff. The moment she saw him, her expression changed from indignation to, of all things, a simpering one. "Ah, my lord Kings-"

"Don't." The woman was cut off by Drake's growl. "Do not pretend to be familiar with me, when this is the first we have ever met." The woman frowned, confused by the stiff anger that the archer was holding himself with. "When you enter this estate, you _will_ treat all servants with respect." Now the woman looked insulted.

"Sir, I don't think-" Drake held up an empty hand, and she cut herself off this time, rocking back on her heels at the abrupt motion.

"I'm not particularly fond of nobles in the first place, so when you come barging in without an invitation, you've already proven that you are not respectful of the wishes of others. You will have quite the difficulty proving yourself to be a reasonable individual that I am willing to deal with." The woman's bill creased in a frown. She was a duck person, dressed in lavender silk for mourning over her perfectly preened white feathers.

"My lord-" Drake simply glared at her now. She didn't stop this time. "How are we to get to know you if we do not meet you?" She had control of herself now, folding her feathered hands in front of her demurely.

"By waiting until I have decided I am ready to meet folk that value themselves too much." The Chosen now sounded a bit more like the beasts he had been named after as a child. He didn't make a move away from his chair, nor did he do more than lower his hand to his side again. "Kindly leave and tell the others that I will make myself known to them on my own time."

The woman seemed to recognize a dismissal when she heard one, and curtsied to him before rushing back out the door, her eyes wide and stunned into silence. Drake sighed and ran his hands over his face, feeling even more tired.

A faint giggle drew the Chosen's attention to the maid that had stuck around. Her eyes were glittering merrily, and she had one tiny hand covering her mouth. Drake lifted an eyebrow at her, wondering what she found so amusing. Finally, the young woman lowered her hands, showing her smile.

"There's so few nobles about that are willing to protect their folk. With the old lord and the miss here, I think most of us were uncertain if we'd live any particular day through." Drake frowned at that. That certainly explained a lot about the reactions he'd seen by the servants, and was still seeing.

"I'm not like noble-born folk. I was born in a mountain village, where folk had to depend on each other just to make it through the winter. Anyone there that has an inflated self-value like that is bound to get cut down to size just as fast as I cut her down." Drake shrugged a little at that, plopping back down into the chair. "Not to mention, she just rubbed me the wrong way, barging in like that." The maid folded her hands at her waist.

"That's Lady Queens for you. You're the first to send her packing like that. Even the previous lord Kings didn't stop her in her tracks like that." Drake sighed and rubbed at his face. "Oh! You must be tired. I apologize. Do you want me to get you some tea, milord?" The archer had to bite his tongue before he told her to stop calling him 'milord', and nodded. There was only so much change that he could force on a group of people in a short amount of time.

The peace and quiet was exactly what the Chosen needed after that brief but aggravating confrontation. He could feel his muscles relaxing in his neck, and he rubbed at his shoulders with his hands as he listened to the ticking of the clock. That was the only sound in the entire room, after all. He'd been shown to what was supposed to be his room, and he could hear the river there, but here in the drawing room, there was only a clock. There wasn't even a fireplace so he could hear the crackling flames.

The archer just about fell asleep in his chair, waiting for the maid to come back. The smell of tea brought him out of his doze just as the door opened, and he rubbed at his face a little. The maid giggled a little and set the tray with the teapot and teacup down on the small table next to him.

"I wasn't sure what kind of tea you like, so I used some of Miss Anastasia's." Drake lifted his eyebrow at that, and took the teacup that the maid poured for him. He smelled it and smiled faintly. He liked the smell of it, sort of flowery but not overly so.

"At least she has good taste in this." The maid blinked at the bitterness in Drake's voice. She looked confused and concerned until the archer smiled a little at her. "I've...met her before. She nearly killed me in Burmecia." The maid's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth.

"O-oh! You're the one that she spoke of when she returned! I thought it odd that she seemed to lovestruck after she and the master had been in the midst of a warzone!" An uncomfortable look crossed his face before the archer looked down at his cup of tea. "M-my apologies! I didn't want to bring up something so uncomfortable." Drake shook his head.

"I brought it up myself. No need to apologize." The maid curtsied and left the room anyway. Drake sighed a little and sipped at his tea, leaning back in his chair. The place was far too opulent for his tastes, and things looked too delicate by far for him. If he was going to spend any amount of time in Treno, he was going to have to find a way to bring some furniture from Caledonia to Treno.

Despite the tea, Drake ended up falling asleep in the chair. He was woken by a servant that guided him to his chambers and fell asleep on the massive bed that Kuja had left behind. He grumbled a fair bit to himself for the feeling that he got as he woke in what amounted to someone else's bed.

The next couple of days settled into a pattern of fittings for clothing, talking to the steward to learn what it was he had to know for his duties as a lord, and finally venturing out to talk to the nobles of Treno and adjusting to being simpered at by noble maidens that wanted to catch him as a husband. He did manage to send a message to Baku and the others, though, letting them know about what had happened and asked them to go to Alexandria to make sure that Zidane didn't destroy himself.

Drake wasn't surprised by the fact that he didn't like most nobles. Most of them saw his connection to Dagger as a sign that he was someone to ally with. That meant that most them tried to get on his good side by being as fake as possible, and showering him with insincere flattery. The archer couldn't deny that he was expecting it, but that didn't mean that he enjoyed it.

It was only a few days before he got a call from a friend. Freya was more than a pleasant sight to the archer, after having to deal with all of the stupidity that was the nobles. The dragoon was certainly rather surprised at his cleaned-up appearance, though. Someone must have told her that the archer had been looking less than polished.

"Had I been told that you would end up a noble when we first met, I wouldn't have believed it." The archer chuckled at that as the Burmecian clapped him on the shoulder. She had a few more scars than she had when they had last seen each other, but the same could be said of Drake.

"I wouldn't have believed it, either. I'm not exactly enjoying things. I can't stand people seeing me for the people that I know rather than myself." Freya chuckled a little at that, and looked askance at his clothing. The archer noticed and looked down at himself. He'd been struggling with the tailor a little more than he thought he would on the subject of his clothing. "This is probably the closest thing I have to my style right now. The tailor insists that it doesn't suit me." The woman laughed a little.

"I don't know what he's talking about. Or she. You're a warrior, not a court jewel." Drake laughed a little at that, and gestured for Freya to sit in one of the plush chairs he had yet to arrange to have replaced. "So has anyone figured out who the previous lord of this estate was?" Drake frowned a little, reminded of the man.

"Kuja, actually. The servants haven't been hiding that in the least. My chambermaid actually used to serve Anastasia. She's been more than a little surprised at the fact that I'm not demanding." Freya chuckled as she settled into the chair. They were lovely chairs, just not to Drake's liking.

"I can imagine why. She didn't strike me as a low-maintenance woman. From what I've seen, most noblewomen aren't." Drake sighed through his nose at that, and rubbed at his face. Freya waited patiently until he'd gathered himself back up again.

"Indeed they aren't. I'd give just about anything to get them to leave me alone. Barring marriage, of course. I'm not ready for that sort of thing." Freya chuckled a little at that, and Drake plopped into his own hair. The door opened, and a maid walked in with a tray of tea and small pastries for the two of them. "Ah, thank you, Acacia." The young woman blushed faintly at the gratitude, and set the tray down on the small table between the two chairs before pouring the tea for them.

"It looks like you've adjusted to a few things." Drake blushed a bit at that, but picked up one of the scones on the platter to take a bite out of it. Freya picked up her cup of tea, and sipped it carefully. "Mm. Though it'd be hard to not adjust to quality like that." The archer chuckled through a mouthful of scone.

"That's one of the upsides, at least. I'm thinking of teaching the cook some of the dishes my mother taught me, though. There's only so much rich food that I can stand. The only time I eat the dishes the nobles enjoy is when I can't avoid a dinner party. Otherwise I'll eat the same thing as the servants to save the cooks the stress of making two dinners." Freya smiled into her tea.

"You are one of the simpler people I have ever met, when it comes to that." The Dragoon set down her teacup and sampled a scone. "Zidane said that you recovered from your amnesia?" Drake nodded, and glanced to the flute that was sitting on a nearby shelf. It looked dingy in the posh settings, but he valued it above anything else in the room, barring his friend.

"Indeed I did. Not before walking headlong into trouble, though." Freya chuckled slightly. Someone had told her about the dwarves, Drake realized. "I found my family. I'd worried them, not writing to them for two years." Freya blinked. No one had told her that, apparently.

"Really? On the outer continent?" Drake chuckled around his teacup. "Or...what did Vivi call it...Caletony?" Drake winced a little at Freya's mangling of the word. "No, that wasn't it." The archer smiled. At least she knew when she'd pronounced it wrong. The nobles hadn't bothered to hide when they butchered the word.

"Caledonia." Freya laughed a little when Drake corrected her, and he tilted his head to the side. She brushed crumbs off her snout with her paw, an easy smile on her face. "What?" The Burmecian shook her head a little.

"Zidane was right, your accent does come out when you speak of your home." Drake tilted his head to the side. "They're all in town, by the way. Everyone but the princess." Drake smiled faintly. So things were about to go south faster than he'd thought. Not that he hadn't been expecting it, though he hadn't anticipated he'd feel so tired by this time.

"Oh, they are? We should go find them, before I get an invitation to yet another party." Freya laughed a little at that, amused that he wanted to dodge social functions so badly. "I'll go see if I can find the adventuring clothing the tailor made for me. I don't want people to bother me while we walk around." Freya laughed outright at that, and drained her teacup. Drake smiled and waved a little as he stepped out of the room.

He was starting to figure out his way around the mansion, finally, but that didn't mean that he could figure out how to get to his room in less than five minutes. He was going to have to talk one of the servants into teaching him the backways around the building, so that he could get places faster. The fact that it also meant he knew his territory better in case that he was attacked there was only a sidenote. There were plenty of guards that were being paid to protect him, after all.

Acacia had overheard him and Freya talking, and had found his simpler things and set them out. She curtsied to him with a small smile as he walked in, and then padded out of the room silently. Drake huffed a little, slightly amused, and changed quickly. He didn't want to have Freya waiting for him too long.

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**End Notes:** I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible, but with finals in a few weeks, tests, homework, and drawing, it may take a little while. At the very least, I ensured that there's plot in the next chapter. So the original stuff shouldn't bog me down as much. The fetch quest might.

_**Read, enjoy, and review~!**_


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